


The Art of Holding On and Letting Go

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wanted to put both Emilys together to make her whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Holding On and Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is the 1st ever Hotch/Prentiss fic I wrote.

He was mesmerized, did not want to stop touching and tasting. The way Emily’s back arched, the smile on her face, turned him on. She ran her hand through his hair and trembled when his mouth took firm hold of her breast. His tongue played in the ring attached to her nipple.

“I can't say I'm surprised.” He said in a ridiculously matter of fact tone.

Even naked, Aaron Hotchner still used that tone. Emily believed that if intimacy ever replaced whatever this was then his voice might change too. Maybe it would surprise him as much as it would her.

“About?” Emily shuddered as his fingers traced her belly button.

“You have a piercing.” Now Hotch kissed her belly button, toying with the silver bar between his teeth. “Now two piercings is very interesting.”

“Stop talking.”

She pulled him to her, her mouth hard against his. Hotch shifted his weight on top of her, lifting her thighs and hips. Emily did not want to be profiled tonight; he knew that. It was something he couldn’t help. Everyone he encountered got the once over…the kid who waited on him in Starbucks and the woman who sold him his suits. Hotch wondered sometimes what his mind would do if it didn’t profile. It had been so long, he remembered little else.

He did not want to profile the woman who gasped when he moved inside of her. He shouldn't look at her as he did everyone else. He wanted to talk to her on cloudy mornings over coffee, sharing sections of the Washington Post. He wanted to make her laugh with embellished stories of his childhood and eventually tell her truths. He wanted to know why she went far away sometimes, more times then she thought he noticed. Hotch wanted to put both Emilys together to make her whole. She of buttoned down shirts and body piercings; the woman with the sleek, sophisticated bob and the teenager in defiant Goth makeup.

“Aaron.” Emily gripped his hips and he felt her falling. Not wanting her to fall away, he held her tighter. One day he would tell her that when she whispered his first name he felt closer to God. Was it possible that he was in love with her? Hotch was too apprehensive to explore that further. The ink on his divorce papers wasn’t even dry…shouldn’t he still love his wife. His ex-wife. Yet he stroked another woman’s face, kissed the side of her mouth, and murmured how beautiful she was. He wanted her so much that if she had not surrendered tonight he was sure he would have imploded. Night after night, Hotch kissed, touched, and whispered. Emily always pulled away. He probably would have done the same thing but that didn’t stop his agony. Every night since the first, he wanted her. What was it that drew them to each other? He was just as afraid of the answer as the question.

“I had my belly button pierced in Oklahoma City; I lost a bet.” Emily whispered.

They were spooning; the sound and feel of Hotch’s breathing brought her comfort. Maybe if she started talking then he wouldn’t leave. She knew he would eventually leave, they all left, but she wanted to hold onto him tonight.

“They have piercing parlors in Oklahoma?”

“It was a decade ago…they were all the rage.”

“So what happened, Emily Prentiss? You don’t look like the type to lose a bet.”

“Captain Morgan’s was involved.” She replied.

“Oh now you have to tell me everything.”

He laughed but the detached manner of his voice remained. How could she be so close to him and yet far away? Why had her life become a jumble of clichés since their first kiss, the one he blamed on liquor? Emily turned in his arms; she needed to see his face. It was dark but she traced the line of his cheekbones and his strong jaw. He was so beautiful; she bit her lip instead of saying so. Hotch’s arms moved around her waist and pulled her closer.

“I’ll start by saying that I do not like to lose. When I do, I take my lumps like a woman.”

“Go on…”

***


End file.
